Mannly Shrieks of Laughter
by rusanno
Summary: Sniper had a terrible secret. A secret he was determined no one would ever find out about. On this team of insane, deadly mercenaries who exploited every weakness to the "T" and then the "ed" for good measure, the discovery of this would spell certain doom. (fair-warning: fluffiest fluff ever to puff. read at own risk.)


The only one on his team who sort of knew about the secret was the medic, but to date he had said nothing about it to the others. In fact, he didn't seem to understand Sniper's concern over the issue at all.

"Zer is nozing to be embarrassed of- zis only means zat you have good fighting instincts- a good thing for here ja?"

But sniper had been adamant that he tell no one, and medic swore himself to secrecy with a shrug.

Fortunately, with this crowd, there wasn't much risk of discovery. They were all men of the not particularly "touchy-feely" variety, keeping mostly to themselves except for at meal time- and poker nights, but that's another story. The only exception to this rule was -as usual- the mysterious, childish imp of a pyro. So it came as quite a surprise when it was not this man who discovered finally discovered him.

It was a warm, pleasant afternoon in the early part of fall. Sniper was sitting out under the awning of the base's front porch, comfortable as anything and just on the verge of falling asleep. The air felt like a warm blanket and the slight wind knocked the chimes on the porch post together. His eyes were studying the ridge of the mountain opposite painted with a myriad of green, red, and brown, when they fuzzed over and closed on the scene.

He didn't hear the spy approaching- snipers rarely do and even fewer do while asleep. Fortunately for him, this particular spy meant no harm and only sat down beside him, thinking he was still awake (sunglasses). He studied the outline of the mountain ridge as Sniper had, but did not find it an interesting enough subject to hold his attention for very long. He took out a cigarette and moved to light it. This, combined with previous vibrations and slight sounds, was enough to bring Sniper back to consciousness, but his eyes did not open. Spy took one out for himself and moved to place the case back in his jacket when he saw the fingers on his teammate's hand twitch. He mistook this for a request and he reopened the case to offer the sniper one of his. The sniper -being in halfsleep- did not move. The spy cleared his throat. Nothing.

Then he did what most people would - he poked Sniper in the side.

There was a sharp intake of air accompanied by a small squeak as the sniper recoiled from the spy's touch as if his finger had been fire. It was not a small movement at all. He folded in on himself to protect the area the spy had just assaulted and sprang back so far as to fall off the bench.

It took spy a moment to process what had just happened at the end of which he broke into loud, snorting spasms of laughter.

"S'not funny!" Sniper roared despite the obvious blush he could feel spreading through his cheeks.

"Not funny?" Spy breathed between breaths, "that is the definition of funny." The sniper's furious look and disheveled hair as he tried to stand up from where he was sprawled against the porch's wooden planks only added to the hilarity. When he finally recovered his stance, he stormed over as if to punch the spy, but he left his side exposed and spy exploited the moment to stab him (fingers for once) just below the ribs. The full-body-twitch/jump was repeated, accompanied by a very loud, "H-HEY!"

Spy laughed and made a jab for his other side and the sniper reacted accordingly. Now he stood with elbows pinned to hips like shields for his sides. Spy made a slash for his belly and the sniper doubled over with a shout and fell to the floor. Spy followed him down. He poked him everywhere, his fingers a mix of knives and spiders. The sniper twitched and screeched like an electrocuted rat, laughing and kicking and trying his hardest to hold spy back until he couldn't anymore. Tears streamed down his smile wrinkled face and his diaphragm hurt from laughter. The spy found all his weak spots with ease; of course it wasn't really very hard.

"You're ticklish everywhere!" He laughed.

"S-s-stop! STOP it! Stop it! Mercy!"

The spy didn't let up. The power was too great, too addictive, to relinquish just yet. But like all great tyrants, spy failed to see his own weakness and protect himself against the retaliation of his subjects. Seeing no end to his torture, the sniper lashed out and jabbed into the spy's sides. He shrieked (a most unmanly shriek) and his hands fell back from their attack on Sniper to defend their own territory. Sniper was relentless in his revenge, his hands forcing their way into the tight folds the spy made of himself around his belly, but when he found no entry there, he was delighted to discover that a well placed drum roll of the fingers on either side of his spine had the spy doubling back on himself, exposing his midsection for attack once again.

Spy was crying and laughing silently, his face red from lack of air. Every puff he took in was expelled just as quickly in now painful chuffs of laughter.

"No More! No more! Please pLEASE! I'm sorry!"

"Wot was that?"

Sniper had pinned the spy to the ground, sitting on his legs and holding both his arms above his head with one hand. He had, in his mad quest for revenge, pulled apart the spy's suit, exposing the soft of his belly which he now ran finger-spiders over mercilessly, watching the spasms of muscle his touch excited.

"I said I'm sorry," The spy pleaded, his breath recovering.

It was at that moment that both men came to their senses and realized that a) sniper was straddling spy on the front porch of their base, b) both of them were very hot and sore from their fight, and c) this was incredibly gay. There was a subtext "d)" for denial which read "gay but kind of nice actually."

Nevertheless, spy's release was swift and awkward as removing one's hips from someone else's lap can be. After some moments of silence wherein spy rebuttoned his shirt and lit a cigarette, both men agreed to tell no one of what had transpired on the porch that afternoon.

"I didn't know you were that ticklish," spy said.

"M'not!- m'not 'ticklish'," he grumbled, "you attacked me."

"Whatever you want to believe."


End file.
